Lustful Memoirs
By: Gina - gina@basic-nstynct.com
Chapter FortyI opened the door slowly, hoping to delay the inevitable. Exiting the vehicle, I took a deep breath, willing the uneasy feeling to fade, a feeling caused by nothing more then the fear of looking weak, incapable, incompetent. Up until that point in my life, my tendency was to only do those things that I knew I excelled at. Never venturing into the unknown, never allowing myself to try something new, never being adventurous. I couldn’t, the horror of ridicule was too great, the fear of not being able to learn, of not being good enough, the fear of disappointment in myself and from others. It was unacceptable, not an option. Therefore, I kept on the safe path, always stating disinterest, other commitments, or any number of excuses to explain my unwillingness. But now, standing outside of the red Mercedes, the gokart track only 20 feet away, the warm, Florida night air surrounding me, I was going to embark on something as non-threatening as gokarting. And I would be doing it under his attentive gaze. The anxiety caused waves of nausea, self-uncertainty in the forefront of my mind, for I was in jeopardy of, for the second time that day, looking less then perfect to him. That thought alone was just as threatening as the memories and thoughts that had invaded my mind all day.
He took my hand, whipping me away from my thoughts, and pulled me toward the track, the urgent anticipation coursing through his body, was felt as our fingers intertwined. I hurried behind him, struggling to keep his pace. The thoughts faded, unknowingly forced way by his childish impatience, his youth-like nature, made me laugh as I followed him.
The next hours passed in a whirl, he patiently taught me how to maneuver the vehicle, how to start, and how to stop, and most unexpected, most surprising to me, was that he showed me how to laugh at myself. An activity, that 24 hours prior, was even further removed from my realm of possibility then gokarting itself. He not only showed me how, he showed me how comfortable and okay it was. He sat behind me for my first run, then let me go on my own, he shouted encouragement, coached me, smiled with me and laughed with me. We laughed at him, we laughed at me, we laughed at nothing at all. True laughter, easy laughter, not an unpleasant thought overshadowing it. I shook my head, as I removed my helmet, placing it in its respective place. Justin parked the vehicles, and grabbed my hand. We walked back to his car, my hand remaining in his, our bodies close, in a friendly comfortable way. He continued to poke fun at the times that I drove the kart onto the grass, or into the tire barriers, I matched his ranting with my own, telling him how easy it was for a beginner to kick his ass. I won the last race, I knew that he had let me, but that didn’t stop me from rubbing his defeat in his face. We pushed in front of the passenger side door, I squeezed his hand before letting go. He pushed past me to open the door, and I climbed into Ruby. I glanced back at him, his eyes staring at the track before us. Taking a deep breath he turned toward me.
"So, did you have a good time?" His eyes penetrated me, hopeful, yet something else, was it anxiousness, uncertainty? I didn’t know, but the emotion portrayed in his eyes was one I had never seen painted there. I smiled at him, my thoughts continuing to examine what I knew about the man, the boy that stood before me. He was a compilation of personalities, some of them endearing, some of them not, yet all of them made him the person that he was. The person, that despite my resolve not drawn him in or to be drawn in by him, I could feel myself growing close to. The person that would hold me while I was in the pit of hell, and not only seemed to make everything okay but seemed to want to make it so. I was forced to look away from him, for fear that he would be able to read my thoughts, to see how deeply he affected me. He stood, patiently waiting for my answer. When, caught up in my analysis of him, I still didn’t respond, he asked again, "Did you have a good time?" This time the words were muttered, whispered. The emotion that before did not have a description now could not go unrecognized. It was anxiety and uncertainty. He needed my approval, sought it out, craved for it. In an instant my mind returned to the conversation we had had by the pool. His words echoing in my ears. I could hear them as if he said them right then. "Well, the sun rise is full of hope and dreams, the day is beginning and at that moment you have the power to design your day, to make plans of what you want to accomplish in that one single 24 hour period. Anything can happen, there aren't any limits. The sun set, however, is a time of reflection. A time to think back over the day that you have just had and come to terms with the events that have transpired, most of the time when I sit and watch the sun set, I think of all of the people that are disappointed in me, once again, because I have failed to live up to their expectations."
I shuddered to think that his current qualm was the nagging doubts that his efforts to both soothe and distract me were failures. I saw it in the cobalt blue of his expressive eyes, the eyes that failed so miserably to keep the emotions he so wished to be hidden a secret. I understood, as the images of his many different personas rushed through my mind, I understood. He needed to know that he didn’t disappoint me, he needed to know that I had a good time, which I did, but in that instant, even if I did not, I wouldn’t dare share those feelings with him. The man, boy standing before me was fragile, yet strong, insecure, yet conceited, he was all those things, and so much more. For a brief moment, I thought about the similarities of our pasts. His childhood taken away by the dreams he so desperately wanted to achieve, mine by the two people that said they would never hurt me. He loved his career, I loved my parents, yet it was still so hard to come to terms with the loss of those precious adolescent years. He needed to be reassured, comforted, consoled, just as everyone else. Now, it was my turn to provide him with that, to repay what he had already done for me so many different times in the hours that had passed between us that day.
"Justin," I looked at him directly as I spoke, letting him see the true enjoyment on my face, "I had a wonderful time, at first I was skeptical, I was scared, I didn’t know what to do, or how to do it. But you made it all comfortable, fun. You wiped away my insecurities and my self-doubt. You reminded me of what it is like to let go, to just have fun, to laugh not only at the absurdity of the world surrounding me but also at the absurdity of being me. This was the best time I’ve had in a long time. And I can’t thank you enough for providing it." With the last world, I felt the walls of my inner sanctuary beginning to shake, but at that moment, staring at the man before me, I did not care. I had to show him. I had to make him see how important he was, how special, how good. I never let my eyes move from his, for I wanted him to see and feel the sincerity of my words. I watched as he responded, watched as the worry faded, replaced by surprise, replaced by satisfaction that he had achieved his goal, and finally a look of contentment lingered on his boyish features. His body relaxed, his eyes gleaming once again.
"Besides, Justin," I said with an eyelash-batting smile, intent on letting the seriousness that had settled over us pass, "I think it’s impossible to not have a good time in your company, I mean, really, you’re funny, you’re sweet, and you’re damn sexy." I lifted my eyebrows and let my eyes peruse his body, I saw the blush creeping into his cheeks. It quickly faded.
"Blake, I know all of that." His mouth pulled into the cocky grin I had grown accustom to, and had, I’m afraid to admit looked forward to.
I laughed at his response. The scared, insecure part of him now hidden, pushed back into a place only a few could see, and even then only if he let them.
"Come on, let’s get back." I said to him, thankful that the tension of our serious thoughts had been pushed away and we were free to resume the childlike, friendly, laughter filled banter that had surrounded us for the few hours prior.
"Do you want to go back to Johnny’s?" He questioned, and I stopped, turning to him, his eyes pleading me to say no.
"Where else would we go?" I asked, almost afraid of his answer.
"I did, sort of, promise you ice cream." His eyebrows raised and his mouth widened revealing the ivory of his teeth. He glanced down to the ground before him and then returned his eyes to mine. "I mean, I made you change for it." I watched the lights from the distant track dance in his dark blue orbs, as I pretended to think about his proposition. No thoughts were required. I knew from the moment that we left the track that I didn’t want the night to end. His eyes did not need to plead, his voice didn’t require the hint of hope, I would have followed him to the deepest, darkest place on earth, secure in the knowledge that I was with him. I felt fear penetrate through me as the realization dawned that he had invaded me, captured me. He now stood on the other side of my carefully constructed barriers, forcing the flag into the uncharted territory, informing all others, claiming it as his own. My heart screamed for joy, finally content at winning against the recesses of my mind, the conscience so bent on assuring no more hurt, keeping all others at bay. This conscience was smarter, more jaded, less naive, it anticipated the full story. And was content in it. It would allow my heart this momentary victory, assured in the knowledge that mere hours would pass and I would be on a plane to LA, away from this place, and most importantly, most necessary for my well being, away from him. For now, it would let go, the next day, the battle would resume.
Shaking away the fear, the uncertainty, the sadness, I barely heard him. "Blake, are you okay?" His concern evident, radiating from his cobalt irises, spreading through his facial features. The look caused my stupid, ill-fated heart to place one more point on its side, naively thinking it was winning the internal war.
I smiled at him, "Yes, Justin, I’m fine. I was just thinking, I’m certainly glad I changed," I said, pointing back to the track, "I couldn’t image whipping your ass on that track in those clothes I had on."
He relaxed at my words, the tension the seemed to build around us, faded once again. He drew in a long breath before he spoke.
"You look better in the ones you have on anyway. You look more relaxed, not so stuffy. In fact, besides those bikinis, I’ve seen and appreciate you in, I think this is the best you’ve looked since I met you." He winked at me, his tongue darting out to wet his full, sensual lips.
I whispered a short, "thank you." My mind reeled from his words, as my cheeks burned crimson. My chest constricted. I was bewildered, surprised, at how identically his thoughts about my attire mirrored my own. I marveled at the fact that his mind followed the same path as my own. It was the second time in such a short period of time that our similarities had reached out and slapped me, reached out and taken hold of that place deep inside me that begged to share and be shared with someone who would understand me and not offer condemnation for the discoveries in my soul. Justin was there. He had reached that place innumerable times in the course of one day when I had unknowingly been aching for it. His simple harmony with my thoughts bolstered me more than he could possibly realize.
He shut my door and made his way to the driver’s side of the vehicle, entering without a sound. He secured his seatbelt and waited for me to do the same. He then threw the transmission in reverse and pulled off the lot. A quick move of his hand, and soft, soothing music surrounded us. We drove for what seemed like an hour, not a word being spoken, both of us content with the silence, taking in the warm Orlando night surrounding us. Finally he turned onto a road that would have been missed had he not know of its existence. I glanced out the window, there hadn’t been a street light in ages, and now the path ahead was unmarked, surrounded by trees. I wondered for a short time if he was lost, surely no ice cream parlor would hide their location in this manner, it wouldn’t be a very smart business decision to offer the sweet treats out in the middle of nowhere. However, the thought faded as the vehicle stopped, still surrounded by darkness. My heart raced, my breathing rapid. Where were we? I turned to question him, affording a glance out the windshield. Before us stood large iron gates, I looked to Justin, who pushed a security code into a hidden panel. The gates opened, and the vehicle lurched forward. Panicking, I took a deep breath.
"Justin, where are we going?" My anxiousness dripping from each word.